A Better Fate Than Wisdom
by not-even-the-rain
Summary: [WIP, het romance, one main OC] Based on The Mighty, Freak the Mighty & Max the Mighty. Seventeen year old Max is off to college on a scholarship. Will he fit in, or will his appearance and his past scare everyone away like usual?
1. Chapter 1 A Sasquatch With Feelings

**Warning: **This story is a het romance, male fictional character/female OC, rated PG-13 for some swearing and mature content. Later chapters may be rated R for sexual content. Maybe.

**Disclaimer: **Aerinah Jordan is an original character, created by me. Max and pretty much all the other characters belong to Rodman Philbrick and/or Miramax. I am not making any money off this story.****

**Author's Note: **This story is based on the books _Freak the Mighty_ and _Max the Mighty_, by Rodman Philbrick, and the movie _The Mighty_ (which was based on the first book, starring the amazing Elden Henson as Max). If you really want to grasp the background of this fic you should probably read the books and/or watch the movie. Actually, you should do this anyhow cause the books and movie are truly wonderful. It's worth it, trust me. However, I have tried to put in enough explanation so that you should be able to follow my fic without any prior exposure to canon.

Speaking of canon, there are several points on which the books and the movie don't agree. In most such cases I have gone with the books, not the movie. So, for example, Max's hometown is Portsmouth (not Cincinnati), Grim's first name is Arthur (not Elton), Freak's last name is Avery (not Dillon), and Max never failed any grades (let alone the seventh grade twice).

This story takes place three years after the events in _Max the Mighty_, when Max is seventeen. I hope you enjoy it. Please review!

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**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 1: A Sasquatch With Feelings**

So, if you could see me right now, you'd probably think it was the weirdest, dumbest thing you'd ever seen. You'd be thinking, first of all, what's he got to cry about? I mean, who'd think a Sasquatch had feelings? That would be the weird part. And then, if you knew what I was feeling – if you knew I'm not just sad, I'm also really scared – you'd probably be thinking that's dumb, the guy's the size of King Kong, he shouldn't be scared of anything or anybody.

I know that's what most people would think. But Worm, my little sister, she's not most people. So when she comes into the down under to see if I'm ready to go and finds me scrunched up in the corner trying not to cry, she doesn't laugh or anything.

I don't hear her come in; she's really small and light and she almost floats along without touching the ground. She doesn't make any noise on the basement stairs, not even the third one up that squeaks so bad it sounds like it's going to snap every time I go lumbering up and down.

I just look up and there she is sitting on the floor in front of me. "Rachel," I say, rubbing at my eyes. "I didn't hear you."

I know," she says. She studies my face for a moment, then asks, "Are you sad cause you're going to miss us?"

"Yeah," I say. "Chicago's a long way from Portsmouth. We'll see each other for holidays and stuff, but that's it. It won't be the same."

Rachel frowns. I can tell she's been thinking about this a lot too. "We went there in the Prairie Schooner with Dip, remember? We passed Chicago the second day, and we stopped a lot – for food, and Frank and Joanie, and the cops."

I sure do remember. That was how Worm got to be my sister, running away together to escape the Undertaker. I notice Worm doesn't say anything about the fire ants we also encountered – or rather, my pants encountered – on that part of the trip, for which I'm grateful. But Worm's still talking.

"Grim said it'll take about six hours to drive straight there. That's not that long. I don't get why you can't come home for weekends, or at least every second weekend."

I sigh. Even every weekend doesn't sound like often enough right now, not when I don't want to leave at all. "Everybody will be busy. You'll be in school, and your mom will be working, and Gram and Grim are too old to spend all their time driving on highways. And this is _college_. It's not like high school; it's a lot more work. I bet I'll have to do homework all weekend, every weekend, just to keep up. If I _can_ keep up…"

Worm bites her lip. "That's really why you're sad, isn't it?" she says softly. "Are you scared?"

I try to say yes but there's this huge lump in my throat all of a sudden, so I just nod.

"You'll do fine," she says, squeezing my hand. "You're really smart, Max; they wouldn't have given you a big scholarship if you weren't really smart."

"I don't know," I say. "The thing is, it's not just about reading, and writing, and studying. Maybe I'll be good enough at that stuff, but you have to do exams too. I hate exams. And you're supposed to talk, and give presentations and stuff. You know I'm no good at talking."

"Yes, you are," Worm says, and only scowls more fiercely when I shake my head. "You _are_. You can talk to me. Just pretend you're talking to me."

"But that's different," I say. "I can talk to you because you listen. You don't look at me like I'm some big dummy. You don't make fun of me." I sigh in frustration. "But everybody else does."

Worm looks like she's thinking hard. "Well," she says slowly, "then maybe going far away to college will be a good thing. Nobody knows you there. Maybe you'll make lots of friends. I mean, I bet you will."

I open my mouth to tell her I don't think big and dumb and scary looks any different in Chicago than in Portsmouth, but just then Gram calls down the stairs from the kitchen. "Maxwell? Rachel? Hurry up, kids; we're getting in the car."

Worm stands up and tugs on my hand. "It'll be okay," she says. "You'll see."

I get up, grab my backpack off the saggy mattress, and take one last look around. My room isn't much – smelly threadbare rug, drippy cement walls, creaky old bed a mile too short for me – but it's my home, has been since I was four years old, and I don't want to leave it. But I turn my big clumsy feet around and make them walk out the door, and up the stairs after Worm.

""

The whole drive, it's like I have bugs crawling around in my guts, I'm so nervous, and it doesn't get any better. It takes us ages to find my dorm, Maclean House. Grim finally has to stop and ask some guys tossing a frisbee for directions, and while one guy tells Grim where to turn, his two friends just stare at me, crammed into the back seat like an overstuffed suitcase. I try to ignore them but I can feel my face getting hot. Why do people always have to stare? I know I'm big and goofy-looking, but I still have feelings.

Then when we do find it, my stomach tries to drop into my shoes. It's this tall, old brick building with crosses up by the roof peaks that remind me right away of Worm's stepdad, the Undertaker. Remind her of him too, I think; she makes this funny squeaking noise and scrunches down in her seat. Gram hears her but she doesn't get it at all; she says, "My, it's a lovely old building, isn't it?"

Even worse than the not-so-lovely old building, though, is all the people. There are cars all over the place, and tearful moms hugging girls in faded jeans, and boys in sweats carrying duffel bags and footballs across the grass and up the stairs. There are kids sitting on the front steps and a bunch of jocks leaning out a window three floors up, yelling and whistling at the girls walking past below. I wonder if they'll start yelling at me when I get out of the car. And even though my neck is sore since I can't sit up straight, and both of my feet are asleep, I just want to stay in the car forever.

But Grim and Gram get out, and Worm, and then Grim's pulling my door open and I have no choice.

Rachel wants to help carry stuff, so Grim gives her my backpack. I put my duffel bag over one shoulder and balance the biggest suitcase on my other shoulder, and then grab the other big suitcase with my free hand. That only leaves the little suitcase for Grim, and nothing for Gram, but that's good; they're not getting any younger.

We lug my stuff up the stairs to the door, past all the people sitting and standing and shouting and staring, and then when we get inside we just stop there like dummies because we don't know where to go. There's this counter off to the left, though, like an office or an information desk or something, so I go over there and they give me a key card for my room – number 344 – and a bunch of papers and stuff that I'm supposed to read and sign.

Gram herds us into the elevator, cause of all the stuff. I don't like elevators; they're too small and I get worried the cable will snap or something cause I'm so big. Which is dumb, I know, but they still make me nervous. But it doesn't take long to go up two floors, and then we find my room, which is way down the hall to the right, past the washrooms. My door is on the left side of the hallway, which is good; that means my window will be over the back of the building, not the front.

The room isn't bad, actually; not when I'm used to living in a smelly, damp basement. The bed's way too small, of course, but there's a nice big desk with a wooden chair that just might be sturdy enough to hold me up, a closet with shelves in it, and a bookcase. All the furniture is this nice reddish wood color, and the walls are white, and there's dark green carpeting on the floor.

Gram starts fussing at me right away to unpack my stuff, so she can make up my bed and get me settled. Grim gives me this look that means "just humor her," so I start pulling everything out of the suitcases and shoving it in the closet and stuff. Worm, meanwhile, has opened the window and is leaning out to have a look around.

"Max," she shouts, as Gram is making hospital corners with my navy blue top sheet. "Come look at this girl!" I cram the last armful of clothes onto one of the closet shelves and go stand next to Worm, but she's still got her head out the window and we won't both fit. "Oops," she says, and leans back. I stick my head out, but I don't see anyone.

"I guess she heard me," Worm says quietly. "She left."

The Worm looks sorry. Probably she feels bad that this girl might think she was being made fun of. We both know what that feels like. "What about her?" I ask.

"Oh," Worm brightens. "Her hair was so cool! It was orange!"

"What, like yours?" I tease. Rachel has bright red hair, and right now it's glowing like fire in the sunlight.

"No, I mean really orange. Like a Creamsicle, or a neon sign. She must dye it. It was awesome!"

"There," Gram says behind us, and we turn around. The bed is all made up with my new sheets and my new plaid comforter that Gram ordered from the Sears catalogue. They even bought me a bunch of new clothes too, which is good cause I had just about outgrown everything again. I haven't gotten any taller in the last six months or so, which is something of a relief, but I got a lot wider helping Grim fix up real bedrooms for Worm and her mom, which we just finished this summer. Grim says I've got muscles on my muscles, and whenever Worm calls me Max the Mighty, Gram snorts and goes "Max the Mighty, indeed."

Then Grim clears his throat, and Gram tugs on the collar of her blouse, which she does when she's nervous, and it hits me all of a sudden: they're going to leave now. They're going to take Worm and drive away, and leave me here all by myself.

And that's when I know I really am a big dummy, cause I never realized until this moment what that means. It means if any of the kids at home tease Worm about how much she likes books, or about her crazy stepdad, or about me, I won't be there to make them quit it. And when I get laughed at for saying stupid things or tripping over my big feet or just being a huge freak, Worm won't be there to tell me to just ignore them and that I'm smarter than they think.

Gram and Grim say goodbye, and they both give me these stiff quick hugs. The Worm is sniffling, and I'm afraid if she starts to cry, then I will too, and like I already said, that's the dumbest thing you'd ever see. So I pick her up quick and give her a hug, and Worm squeezes me so hard it hurts.

And then they're gone, and I'm alone.


	2. Chapter 2 Multiples of Nine

**Author's Note: **I should mention that I've never been to Chicago and all I know about the city and the university is what I was able to learn online. Chapters 2 and 3 are pretty short, so I'll put 3 up soon. I guess the first three chapters might seem kind of slow and boring but after that the story should get more interesting.

If anyone is actually reading this, please review. I'm lonely. :P

Oh, and one sentence in this chapter is a deliberate paraphrase of something Max says in Ch. 3 of _Max the Mighty_. Philbrick's original sentence is "Which if you know how big I am is like not noticing an elephant in your living room." You'll know my hommage when you see it. Enjoy!

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**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 2: Multiples of Nine**

The first couple of days are crazy, and scary. There aren't any classes yet, but I have to figure out where the dining hall is, and I have to fill out all kinds of forms and take them from one place to another, and get my timetable and map so I can start figuring out where my courses are going to be, cause I'm terrified I'll get lost and end up wandering around like a moron looking for the right building, and I expect it'll be hard enough to keep up without missing half my classes cause I can't find them.

But by now I think I'm doing okay. I've marked on my map where all my classes are going to be (they start tomorrow), and I can find Bartlett Hall no problem. That's where I am now, finishing up supper. Some girls at the table next to mine were whispering and snickering about how much food I had on my tray, and a lot of people stare when I walk past them, but that's not so bad. I've been picked on a lot worse.

I'm standing in line behind a couple of girls in cheerleader outfits, waiting to dump my tray. They're talking loudly about their boyfriends and glaring back at me like they think I'm going to try to hit on them or something. Like that would ever happen. I mean, of course I like girls, and of course I'd like to have a girlfriend someday. Who wouldn't? But not a girl like that. They're pretty, sure, but they look mean. They have hard, cold eyes, and shrill voices; and every look, every gesture, every tilt of their heads and flick of their perfect hair means _I'm better than you are, and don't you forget it_. I wouldn't want a girlfriend like that, mean and self-centered and so wrapped up in being popular they never stop to think about anything. Anything at all, anything that actually matters, like what fire really is or why all the multiples of nine add up to nine or who the real hero of _The Lord of the Rings_ is, Frodo or Sam. That's the kind of stuff I think about, although I know you wouldn't believe it to look at me.

It was my best friend Freak who taught me to think, and all of a sudden I miss him really bad. I bet if he was here he'd have some smartass comment that would put these snobby cheerleaders in their place, and make me laugh so hard I'd probably drop my tray.

Just as I'm thinking that, I almost _do_ drop my tray, cause somebody walks right into me. I look down to see who it is, and I realize right away this must be the girl Worm tried to point out to me the day I got here. She has long hair, golden blonde on top, a shade or two lighter than mine, and orange underneath – blazing bright orange, like a traffic cone or a construction sign. She has her nose buried in her planner – I can see it's open to the campus map – but looks up to see what she ran into. She has to back up a couple of feet to get an angle on my face, and that's when I notice she's really short, maybe even shorter than the Worm; the top of her head just reaches the middle of my chest. "Sorry," she says, and smiles; "I didn't see you."

Then, before I can think of anything to say, she's walking out of the dining hall, and I'm standing there staring after her like a big moron. The cheerleaders in front of me are giggling to each other. "How could she not see him?" one of them whispers loudly. "He fills up the whole room!"

Her friend shushes her, but honestly, I think she has a point. Not seeing me is like not seeing a hippopotamus in your bathtub. I'm still thinking about it after I dump my tray and start heading back to my dorm, cause there was something else strange about the situation, only I can't quite figure it out.

When I open the door to Maclean Hall and go in, there are these girls just coming out, and they flinch back when I duck through the door. And then I realize what was strange: it wasn't just what the girl with orange hair said, it was the look on her face. She didn't get that funny look everybody gets when they see me for the first time, that look that means they're thinking _God what a freak_ or C_ripes he's enormous_ or _Eek I hope he doesn't hurt me _or whatever. She just smiled. At me.

Weird.


	3. Chapter 3 Bound or Unbound?

**Author's Note:** I realized as I was uploading this chapter that it's pretty short and boring. I promise, the next chapter is both longer and much more interesting. Things are finally going to start happening...

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**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 3: Bound or Unbound?**

_Dear Rachel,_

_It's been three weeks now, and I guess everything's going alright. My classes are pretty interesting, and I managed to find them all okay. Well, I did get lost once. Intro Paleontology, my science option, is halfway across campus. It's a really big class; there's like two hundred students. I had to sit right at the front, cause I was late, but it wasn't too bad cause the seats go up steeply, like in a movie theater, so the people that got stuck behind me could still see. I hope. I sort of thought the whole class was going to be about dinosaurs, which is why I took it, but we won't be doing dinosaurs till just about the end. Still, it's really interesting._

_English is my favorite class, though; it's Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. We're doing _Frankenstein_ right now; it's a great book. Have you read it? There's a copy in my bookcase if you want to borrow it. I always wonder what the symbolism of the word "bound" is in that book. She sure uses it a lot. Seems like all the characters are either bound or unbound. Weird. I can't wait till we do poetry, but that's not till November, I think. _

_Hey, remember that girl with orange hair? She's in my English class. And I think she must live on my floor too; I've seen her around a few times._

_There are some interesting people here. It's like there's a bunch of different social levels, and they don't really intersect outside of class. Like there's a group of guys and girls who always seem to travel around the dorm in this big noisy pack, or else they break up into couples and sit around in the common room making out and talking about their sex lives. (So I don't hang out in the common room much.) And pretty much every Friday and/or Saturday they load up on beer and get drunk and rowdy in one of their rooms. I can sleep through it okay though – even the one time the party was right across the hall from me, it still wasn't as loud as Grim snoring._ J__

_So I figure they were probably the popular kids in high school. They're the only ones who've made fun of me so far, but it's not a big deal. They just laugh or make stupid comments about Godzilla and King Kong and steroids and stuff when I walk by. Whatever. _

_Then there're the jocks – guys and girls who are doing phys ed degrees, and exercise all the time. They all seem to wear __University__ of __Chicago__ sweats and t-shirts and they always have these big bottles of water, and they wear expensive sandals or running shoes. And they only eat salad and bran muffins and stuff._

_There's a bunch of just normal kids, I guess, who treat everybody okay and just hang out with their friends. And then there's a few weirdos who don't seem to have any friends, and you never see them talk to anybody. I'm one of them, of course, and that girl with orange hair is too, I think. I've never seen her talk to anyone outside of class. She talks a lot in English though; she sounds really smart. She puts her hand up for just about every question. It kind of reminds me of Kevin, except he used to get really impatient with Mrs. Donelli if she didn't let him talk as much as he wanted to, and this girl doesn't. If Dr. Kuntz doesn't pick her she just puts her hand down and waits for the next question. And when she does get to say something it's always really smart, and then everybody else kind of looks at each other like "Oh, why didn't we think of that?" Only I don't think she gets that that's what we're all thinking; she looks around too and you can see she's embarrassed. She almost looks how I feel after I've just said something really dumb, only she never says anything dumb. _

_Anyhow, I spend most of my time doing homework. There sure is an awful lot of it. Not so much the kind you have to hand in, like in high school, but a lot of reading. Like three chapters of a textbook or a whole novel a week. Crazy. But I think I'm keeping up okay so far. _

_Sometimes I walk to Promontory Point, which is right on __Lake Michigan__. There's a kind of lookout platform or whatever where you can stand or sit and look at the lake, and trees and stuff. I hang out there a lot, reading or listening to music or just looking at the water and thinking. And not too far from there, there's a mall with a bookstore and a movie theater. I've gone to a few movies. And that's about all I do, I guess._

_I did write a couple more poems, though. One of them is from this dream I had, about a king and reincarnation and stuff. I like it a lot, but I don't know, it might just be cause reading it over reminds me of my dream, which was really cool, and not cause the poem itself is actually any good. Maybe I'll send it to you in a while, after I fix it up, and you can tell me what you think. _

_So how are your classes and stuff going? Do you like high school any better than junior high? What are you reading lately? And how's your mom liking her new job? I hope they do buy her a computer. It would be so great if you could email me from home instead of school. Oh, and try to stay away from Chris Fowler. He's trouble, believe me. His older brother was an asshole too – and now he's in jail, last I heard. If Chris calls you names again, let me know, and I'll kick his ass when I come home. Man, I can't wait till Thanksgiving. Two and a half months to go. Write back soon, okay? I miss you._

_Love, Max_


	4. Chapter 4 Weird, Weird, and Weird Again

**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 4: Weird, Weird, and Weird Again**

So this one Sunday, a week or two into October, I'm heading back to my room after lunch, when something weird happens. As I'm about to walk past the girls' bathroom, the door to the can opens, and a girl sticks her head out. It's Erin or Erica or whatever her name is, that girl with the bright orange hair; only right now her hair is dripping wet. She sees me coming down the hall, makes this silly noise – it sounds like "eep" – and jumps back out of sight.

That's not the weird part. A lot of people freak out when they see me coming; I'm used to it, I guess. (Although she never did it before, and I'm thinking it's too bad if she's scared of me now like everybody else is.) The weird thing is what happens after. She sticks her head out the door again, looks around, and then goes, "Max." I didn't know she knew my name.

"Yeah?" I say. I'm standing right in front of the bathroom now, and I'm wondering why she's peeking out the door like she's doing. She's bent over sideways, so only her head sticks out, and it doesn't look very comfortable. She's also shivering, and her wet hair is making a puddle on the floor.

She doesn't say anything right away, and after a moment I start looking around uneasily. This doesn't feel right; I figure it's a joke and any minute a bunch of people are going to jump out and start pointing and laughing at me.

Turns out, I'm not actually that far off. There _is_ a joke, only for once I'm not the one it got played on.

She takes a deep breath, then says all in a rush, "I was having a shower and somebody took my stuff. My towel and my clothes and my bag, everything's gone."

Her face has turned bright pink, and I can feel my ears burning too. That's why she's standing so funny, then, hiding behind the door: she's naked. "Um," I say, looking around, trying to think. "You want me to go to your room and get you some clothes?"

"You can't," she says. "My door's locked, and the key card's in my bag, and they took my bag too... whoever it was." She's embarrassed, but she also looks really pissed off, and I notice her eyes are bright green. Then I quickly look at the floor again.

A door opens down the hall, and we both jump. She slams the bathroom door and I move a few steps to the side and stare at the bulletin board like I'm interested in the stupid clubs and intramural sports schedules and stuff. A couple of girls come out into the hallway and then disappear down the stairs. As soon as they're gone I drop my backpack on the floor and start unbuttoning my blue and green plaid shirt. I've got a grey t-shirt on underneath.

I'm just slipping my arms out of the sleeves when the bathroom door creaks open again, and she peeks out nervously. "Uh, here," I say, holding out my shirt. She pulls her head back and sticks a bare arm out instead, and I put the shirt in her hand. The door closes again, and I'm left standing there like an idiot.

I wonder if maybe I'm supposed to go now, and she can give me my shirt back later. But then I remember she's locked out of her room. Probably she won't want to be wandering around the dorm wearing nothing but my shirt. Then the door opens again, all the way this time, and she steps out into the hall. The shirt looks even bigger on her than I thought it would: it comes down past her knees, and the sleeves are about a foot too long. It looks really cute.

"Thanks," she's saying. "I was afraid nobody would come by. Or, you know, nobody who'd help me instead of just laughing at me."

"Yeah," I say. "I know what you mean." I'm thinking she doesn't look much more comfortable in my shirt than she did with nothing on; she's got the cuffs all twisted up in her fists and she keeps looking around like she thinks somebody's going to jump out and go 'Boo!'. Which might not be too far off, actually; kids who'd steal a girl's clothes while she's in the shower are probably also the kind of kids who'd want to stick around after and watch her try to get back to her room with no clothes on.

"Um," I say, and she looks up at me hopefully, "if you want you can wait in my room, and I can go find the residence advisor, or whatever they're called. They should be able to get into your room, right?"

"Yeah, I think so," she says. "That would be really great."

So I lead the way to my room and unlock it. I step back to let her go first. She goes in and then stands in the exact middle of the floor, like she's afraid to touch anything. I'm glad I made my bed this morning, and thank god there's no dirty underwear or socks or whatever lying around. She's still shivering (and dripping), so I toss my backpack on the desk, and grab a towel from the bottom shelf of my closet and give it to her. "You can sit down if you want," I say. "I'll go get the RA."

"Okay," she says, and smiles up at me. "Thanks."

I go down the hall to the RA's room, and as I'm walking I'm keeping an eye out for giggling girls or maybe some clothes sticking out of a trash can, but there's nothing. And when I get to 302, where Michelle or whatever the RA's name is lives, I see there's a sign on her door. "Back at 2," it says, and that's not good, because it's only ten to one now.

So I go back to my room. Erin-or-Erica is leaning on my desk, looking at the pictures I have taped to the wall above it (she has to stand on her tiptoes to see them), but looks around quickly when I come in. "Is that your family?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, coming over to look too. There's one picture with all of us, Gram and Grim and Worm and Worm's mom, and me in the back looming over everyone, that our neighbor took for us over the summer, and a couple pictures of just me and Worm. My favorite is this one where we're sitting on a bench by the millpond, that her mom took; we didn't know she was going to take a picture, and Worm had just told me this dumb joke and we're both laughing fit to split.

"That's my sister, Rachel," I say. I don't want to say more cause I don't want to have to explain why I live with my grandparents, and where my mother and father are, and I also don't really want to talk about the Worm. I miss her too much.

"Oh," the girl says, and I can feel her looking at me. Maybe she sees on my face that I don't really want to talk about my family, cause she doesn't ask, she just says, "So, is Michelle coming?"

Oh yeah. I forgot. "Um, no," I tell her. "There's a note on her door that says she'll be back at 2."

"Great," she says, and starts chewing on her lip.

"You can stay here till then," I say quickly. "I mean, if you want." Then I feel stupid cause of course she won't want to sit around talking to me for an hour.

"Really?" she says, and she's smiling up at me again. "That would be awesome. Thanks, Max."

She said my name again. And I'm still not sure what hers is, so I ask her.

"Aerinah," she says, and spells it. "It's kind of weird, I know."

I'm picturing the spelling in my head as I sit down in my desk chair. Even when I'm sitting down she's still a couple of inches shorter than me. "I like it," I say. "It's cool."

"Thanks," she says, and she's still standing in the middle of the floor, so I ask her to sit down. She climbs up on my bed kind of awkwardly, and tucks the tail of my shirt tightly around her legs, and I blush cause I just remembered that's all she's got on.

"Um, you want a blanket?" I ask, and when she says yes I give her this afghan that Gram made for me a couple of years ago. It's the most godawful colors, pink and brown and green and yellow and black, but it's warm and really soft.

As she's spreading it out over her lap she gives this little laugh that doesn't sound very amused. "You know," she says, "I thought university would be different. I thought people would be here cause they want to learn, and you'd be judged on how smart you are, not how pretty or thin or rich or popular. I really thought maybe I wouldn't get picked on anymore."

That kind of surprises me. "What'd you get picked on for?" I ask. She has orange hair, yeah, and she's really short, but other than that she seems pretty normal to me.

She blinks at me, like she's surprised she has to explain. "For being fat and ugly, and for being such a geek," she says, and now it's my turn to blink at her in surprise. Cause she's sort of curvy and plump, okay, but she's not ugly. Actually, she's kind of pretty.

I'm not sure what to say. I don't think she's fat and ugly but I can't say that; I mean, could I sound any more lonely and desperate? "So, _are_ you a geek?" I ask instead.

"Yep," she says proudly. "I love _Star Trek_, and dinosaurs, and chaos theory, and quantum physics. And sci fi movies."

"Yeah, dinosaurs are cool," I say, cause I have absolutely nothing to say about chaos theory or quantum physics. "I'm taking an intro paleo class."

"I know," she says. "I'm taking it too."

"Oh," I say, and now I feel dumb, cause class has been going on for like a month and I hadn't noticed.

She laughs. "I only know you're in the class cause I saw you come in late the first day," she says, like she knew what I was thinking. "Otherwise I probably wouldn't have noticed you. I'm not usually very observant; I tend to daydream a lot." Then she laughs again. "Which explains my annoying habit of walking into people in cafeterias."

Before I can stop to think about what I'm saying, I blurt out, "How come you weren't scared of me?" Damn, that was lame. But I've been wondering about it a lot.

"What?" she says. "Like scared you'd beat me up for walking into you? I don't know, you didn't look pissed about it…"

Now that's weird. It's like she really doesn't get it. "No," I say, and run my hands through my hair. How do I explain? "Everybody's scared of me cause I'm bigger than they are," I say finally. That's not exactly the whole story – people at home are also scared cause they think I'm going to turn out like my father – but I figure the whole student body at the University of Chicago probably doesn't know about Killer Kane, and they're still scared of me, so it must be cause of my size. "And, I don't know, I would've thought you'd be even more scared, cause…" I trail off, cause it occurs to me maybe she likes people telling her she's really tiny about as much as I like people pointing out I need my own zip code.

"Cause I'm so short?" she asks, and when I nod she doesn't get angry. Actually she looks delighted. Weird again.

"Well, think about it," she says. "If I was scared of anybody who's bigger than me, I'd have to be scared of pretty much everybody, wouldn't I?" She looks at me thoughtfully for a moment, then looks down at her hands (she's twirling the fringes of the afghan around her fingers). "Anyhow, you don't seem scary," she says to the afghan. "You seem like a nice guy."

"Oh," I say. Like an idiot. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that.

After that the time flies by, cause we talk about all kinds of stuff. She says she's from Drumheller, which is this small town in Alberta, Canada, where you can find more dinosaur bones than just about anywhere else in the world. She gets all excited telling me about it; watching her talk about _Edmontosaurus_ and _Pachyrhinosaurus_ and the Bearpaw Sea and the K-T mass extinction makes me feel almost like I'm watching Freak talk about knights and dragons and chemistry and robots.

She trails off after a while and grins at me. "Sorry, Max," she says. "Didn't mean to give you a lecture. What are you doing your degree in?"

"English Lit," I tell her.

"That's cool," she says. "Much more useful than paleontology. What are you planning on doing after? After you graduate, I mean."

"I don't know," I say. Honestly, I never thought I'd even go to college; I have no idea where to go from here.

"Me neither," she says cheerfully, and that makes me laugh.

I don't really know what to say next, so I ask her if she has any brothers or sisters, and she says no. Then she says, "You know, I think I saw your sister the day I got here. I was in the courtyard behind the building, and she was leaning out of a window. Or someone who looked a lot like her, anyhow."

"Yeah, that was her," I say. I'll have to tell Worm that Aerinah remembers her. "She liked your hair."

"Oh," she says, blushing.

"So how come you dye it orange?" I ask. Then I wonder if maybe that sounds rude, so I add quickly, "It looks really cool, I was just wondering."

"That's okay," and she smiles. "I just like it. It's so bright and, I don't know, different. It just makes me happy."

I laugh. "It made Worm happy too – she loved it."

"How come you call her Worm?" Aerinah asks.

Oops, I didn't realize I'd said her nickname out loud. "Well," I say, "The first time I met her, this bully was teasing her. He took her backpack and ripped up her books and stuff, and he was calling her Bookworm. And later I heard some other kids calling her that too, and Worm for short. I didn't find out her real name till later."

Now Aerinah looks confused. "When you first met her? I thought she was your sister."

"Oh, yeah," I say. It's funny, but sometimes I almost forget. We've been a family for over three years now, and it feels natural, like it's always been this way. "Well, we aren't really related. But her stepdad's a real asshole – he was beating her mom up, and hurting Worm too. So we ran away together. Then, when he got put in jail, Worm and her mom came to live with me and my grandparents." I figure now she'll ask me where my parents are, but I don't mind anymore. I don't know why, I just feel really comfortable talking to her.

"I live with my dad," she says instead of asking me anything. "I mean, I did until I came here. My mom died two years ago."

"Oh," I say. I'm not sure if I should say anything about her mom, like 'I'm sorry' or 'How did she die?' or whatever. I hate it when people say stuff like that to me. So instead I ask, "What's your dad like?"

"He's awesome," she says, grinning. "He's a crusty old bastard, but he's a lot of fun. He's like William Shatner but without… the dramatic… pauses." She's gesturing theatrically and talking like Captain Kirk at his most eloquent, and I burst out laughing.

I know she didn't ask me, but I just feel like I can trust her for some reason, so I say, "My mom died too. When I was four."

"Oh." She doesn't say anything else for a minute, then she says slowly, "And... your dad?"

"He's in jail," I say. I take a deep breath. "For killing my mom." Well, and for almost killing Loretta Lee, and for trying to kill me too, but I figure that's enough detail. I was looking at my hands but now I look at her real fast, to see how she reacts.

She looks surprised, but she doesn't look like she's about to jump up and run out of the room. "Wow," she says softly. "That's really horrible."

"Yeah," I say.

I glance at my alarm clock, and I'm surprised to see it's already five after two. I feel like we've only been talking for ten minutes or so, but I guess it was a lot longer.

"Hey," I say, "Michelle should be back now. I'll go get her, okay?"

"Okay," Aerinah says, tucking her damp hair behind her ears. She still doesn't look freaked out, and I'm thinking she's pretty cool.

So I head down the hall again, but I don't bother going all the way to 302, cause now there's a bunch of clothes and stuff strewn all over the floor by the garbage can. Grey sweats, black t-shirt, purple panties, black bra, blue and purple striped socks, black sneakers, and a black canvas bag with bottles of lotion and stuff spilling out. I shove everything into the bag (I look over my shoulder before grabbing the underwear, and yeah, I can feel my face turning red) and take it back to my room.

"Still not there?" Aerinah asks when she sees me back so soon.

"I don't know, but look," I say, and hold out the bag. "Is this your stuff?"

"Hey!" she exclaims. "Yeah, where did you find it?" She's going through the bag, making sure everything's there I guess, or maybe looking for her room key.

"By the garbage," I say.

"Hmmph," she says, frowning; then, "Oh well, whatever. At least they put it all where I could find it." Then she grins up at me. "Or where you could find it, rather."

I grin back at her. I'm glad her stuff turned up. But I'm also kind of glad somebody took it in the first place, cause I liked talking to her.

"Um," she says, looking kind of embarrassed for the first time in a while, "Not to kick you out of your own room, but would you mind if I, uh, got dressed here?"

"Oh," I say. That makes sense. "Yeah, sure; I'll come back in a few minutes."

"Thanks!" she calls as I head out the door.

I go to the bathroom, and then kill a couple more minutes reading the posters on the bulletin board. There's nothing exciting; used textbooks for sale and ads for tutors and of course the club notices and stuff.

I knock on my door and Aerinah opens it. She seems totally relaxed now that she's fully clothed. Which I guess is normal, but it makes me feel kinda weird. Cause except for Rachel, people just aren't relaxed around me. Like, ever.

"I put your shirt on your desk," she's saying.

"Okay, thanks," I say.

"No, thank _you_," she says. "You really saved my ass. I hope I didn't wreck your afternoon too bad."

Now that's a laugh. If not for this whole incident I probably would've been doing homework, or maybe just contemplating my navel. "No, not at all," I say. "Uh, my pleasure." And it really was. I don't want it to end, either, but she's already on her way out the door.

"See you in class tomorrow!" she calls over her shoulder.

Oh yeah, I'm thinking as the door closes. Paleo tomorrow. Suddenly, I'm really looking forward to it.


	5. Chapter 5 Too Good To Be True

The poem attributed to Max is an original poem that I wrote when I was about fourteen. Please don't use it anywhere else. And sorry about the double spacing - I can't get it to separate the lines otherwise. :(

* * *

**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 5: Too Good to Be True**

_From a Different Point of View_

_A lock of golden hair hangs over her lowered eyelids _

_My hand comes up and brushes it over her shoulder _

_Her eyes meet mine and skitter away, searching desperately _

_For something to cling to, something that cannot betray her _

_Her hands are clenched in her lap, rigid with fear - _

_Of me._

_Max Kane, September 29/04_

When I go into paleo on Monday I look around for Aerinah, but I don't see her anywhere, so I sit down in my usual seat (front row center). It's funny, my 'usual' seat is the last place I'd usually sit: I'd much rather be an anonymous shape in the back instead of this big ape taking up the whole front row. I hate the feeling of having all these people behind me, wondering how many of them are staring at me. But that's where I got stuck the first day, and after that everybody sat in the same seats from then on, so I figured I should stay put too.

I'm digging around in my backpack looking for a pen, and when I finally find one and look up, Aerinah's just coming in the door. I smile at her and kind of wave, and I'm hoping maybe she'll come say hi before she goes up to wherever she sits. But Aerinah not only smiles back, she comes over and plops down in the seat right next to me.

"Hey, Max," she says. "How are you?"

"Hi," I say, and clear my throat. "Um, okay."

Great. It's not exactly the most intelligent or engaging thing I could've said, and I don't get a chance to come up with anything better, cause the prof starts in, talking about lungfish and early tetrapods.

But it's nice to be sitting next to someone I know. It's nice to be sitting next to someone at all, actually – in most of my classes people leave at least one seat between me and them, like they're scared of even brushing up against me. I admit it's kind of cramped this way, and I have to tuck my arm in at a funny angle as I write, to keep from elbowing Aerinah in the ribs, but I don't mind.

The lecture seems to drag on forever, but at the same time it's also over sooner than I expect. I'm still trying to shove everything back into my bag when Aerinah bounces up from beside me and tosses her backpack over her shoulder. "Well, see you later," she says.

"Yeah, see you," I say, and then she's gone.

----

I don't see Aerinah in Bartlett Hall at lunch time, and my two afternoon classes are mind-numbingly boring. I'm glad when they're finally over and I can head back to the dorm, but as soon as I go into Maclean Hall I start wishing I was somewhere else. Cause today it seems like every single person in the dorm is looking at me, and whispering about me as soon as I pass by them. I swear by the time I get up to the third floor, I've heard no less than four groups of people start snickering after I walk by.

It's even worse on my floor. "That's him," I hear somebody hiss behind me, and someone else giggles.

And, there's a group of people clustered around the bulletin board between the washrooms. It looks like they're all trying to read something that's posted there, but when a guy at the back notices me he elbows the guy next to him, and pretty soon they're all staring at me, some of them blankly, some smirking or trying not to laugh.

I have no idea what's going on, so I stop in front of them and just wait. I don't like to cause trouble, but I'll be damned if I'm going to slink past all these people and hide in my room and pretend I don't know they're laughing at me. I shouldn't have to do that. It's not right.

"Nice poem, loser," somebody finally says. I recognize him; he's one of the late-night party people. I think his name's Darren. He's slept his way through half the dorm so far, judging by the different girls I've seen him with, and the various rooms I've seen him exiting on different mornings, not to mention the stories I've overheard in the common room and the computer lab. He's also the guy who cracks jokes about Godzilla and steroids when I pass by. "Your title sucks though," he's saying, and I have no clue what he's talking about. What poem?

"Yeah," this girl pipes up from beside him. She's got long brown hair and bright blue eyes, and she'd probably be really pretty if her face wasn't twisted into a sneer. "It can't be a _different_ point of view if you freak _everybody_ out!"

The crowd shifts as they laugh, and suddenly I see Aerinah's there, standing close to the wall. Her eyes are enormous and I can't read the expression on her face. Surprise? Dismay? I can't tell, and then I forget all about her cause I finally get a look at the bulletin board. Tacked up right in the middle of it is a poem I wrote last month. An embarrassing poem. So embarrassing I didn't even want Worm to read it. A poem that should be in the folder in my backpack along with all the other poems I've written, but which is instead posted on the third-floor bulletin board for everybody to read, written out in pencil, with my name and the date I wrote it scrawled across the bottom, just like I put on every one of my poems.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"So who's the girl, Mad Max?" Darren sneers. "And does she have a restraining order filed against you yet?" That comment gets quite a few snickers.

I push through the crowd, snatch the paper off the wall, and turn away, heading for my room. The laughter in the hall rises again, and I can hear it even after I close my door.

The first thing I do is dig through my backpack for my folder, to make sure none of my other poems are missing. They're all there, thank god. I smooth out "A Different Point of View" and put it back in the folder, and then I sit down on the bed and try to think. How in hell did my poem end up on the bulletin board? I'm always really careful not to leave personal stuff like that lying around; that folder, and my journal, are always either in my backpack or on my desk, and no one—

Then it hits me, and my stomach makes this nasty lurch. There's only one person who could have done this. I had my poem folder in my backpack yesterday, when I rescued Aerinah from the bathroom, and then I threw it on my desk and left her alone with it while I went to find the RA. I remember how she had been standing right in front of my desk when I got back, and how she kind of jumped back when I came in. She acted like she'd been looking at my pictures. But had she in fact been going through my backpack, and pulling out the most embarrassing thing she could find?

My face is burning, and my hands are shaking. I don't even know what all I'm feeling; humiliation and embarrassment and betrayal and… and rage, I guess. Yeah, I'm fucking furious. I helped her, I let her in to my private space, I opened up to her – my stomach twists itself into a slick knot as I remember all the things I told her, about Worm and the Undertaker, and my mom, and… about Killer Kane. Yeah, that was a big mistake. All the time I thought she was so nice, she was probably thinking to herself what a big retard I am and all the fun she was going to have humiliating me.

"Serves you right, stupid," I mutter under my breath. That's what I get for thinking anyone – any _girl_ – could like me. I should have known it was too good to be true.

I wish I was home, in the down under. I could squeeze under my bed and just drift, let the world go away for a while. I can't crawl under the bed here; there are drawers underneath. So I turn the light off and backflop onto the bed (which hurts; I keep forgetting how thin the mattress is: my bed is basically like a coffee table with a pad on it) and just lie there, my eyes and throat burning, trying not to think about anything.

----

I don't come out for supper. I've never felt less like eating in my life. I should be rereading "The Yellow Wall-Paper" for English tomorrow, but I don't do that either.

I can tell I'm going to have to get up sooner or later though, cause I have to pee. I picked a great day to drink three Cokes and two coffees.

Finally, the pressure gets too uncomfortable to bear, and I sit up. There isn't much light coming in the window, and the only thing I can see in my room is the green glow of my alarm clock, which says it's 9:36. I stand up, flick the light on, and stretch (as much as the low ceiling and my cramped bladder allow), then go stand in front of my door, pressing my ear to the dark wood. I can't hear anything in the hallway. Hopefully it'll be deserted and I can get to the can and back without running into anyone.

I open the door, step forward – and just about plow right into Aerinah, who's standing there with her hand up, about to knock. I grab the door frame to keep from walking into her (cracking my forehead on the top edge of the molding while I'm at it), and she stumbles back a few steps in surprise.

"Oh, hi," she says, startled. "Sorry. I was just coming to see if you were… you know, okay."

She's looking up at me, waiting for me to say something. My forehead is stinging where I whacked it, I have to pee so bad I can barely stand up straight, and all of a sudden I'm madder than I've ever been in my life. "No, I'm not okay," I say, stepping into the hall and yanking my door shut with a bang. I take a couple steps forward so I'm looming over her. "Why would I be _okay_?"

For the first time ever she looks scared of me, and part of me is viciously glad to see it, at last. "What do you really want?" I say, and my voice is starting to get loud. "You think if you're nice to me again I'll let you come in and take something else of mine?"

"What?" she stammers. "Max, no, I didn't—"

"Yeah, whatever," I say coldly. She just stares up at me, mouth open, as I push past her, and stride angrily down the hall to the bathroom.

I'm still furious as I wash my hands and splash water on my face, drying off angrily with rough swipes of brown paper towels. I remember how I waved at her in paleo this morning, grinning like an idiot. Yeah, that was pretty pathetic. Man, she better not be out there when I come out.

I go into the hallway, and there she is, standing right in front of my fucking door. Like she thinks she could stop me from going around her – or through her – if I wanted to.

"Max," she says, scared but determined, "Look, it wasn't—"

I don't believe this. Okay, so I was dumb enough to fall for her shit once, but does she really think if she bats her eyelashes at me and swings that shimmering hair around she can fool me again? "GO. AWAY!" I tell her through my clenched jaw.

When she doesn't move I want to shove her out of the way so hard she flies all the way to the other end of the hall, but I just duck around her and unlock my door, then slam it shut behind me.

So I'm standing there, in the middle of the floor, shaking with rage and breathing hard like I've been running, and I'm thinking _I'm so fucking furious I could—_

Strangle her. That's what I was thinking, only I happen to glance at the window right while that thought crosses my mind, and for a minute my reflection – face twisted in fury, shoulders hunched, fists clenched – looks exactly like Killer Kane.

And the thought breaks off cleanly in my brain, leaving only white noise, and I'm shaking even harder, but it's not rage now, it's fear.

Images pour into my head: my mom, her face turning purple and her hands fluttering like wounded birds around my father's face and shoulders; Loretta Lee, on the dirty floor in a tinsel necklace and a fur coat, coughing and gasping and Killer Kane telling me _Look away, son; just look away_; and _him_, the murderer, lying to me, looking me right in the face with tears in his eyes saying he never harmed one golden curl on my mother's head.

Some choked sound escapes from my chest; I sit shakily down on my bed. I lower my head into my hands, and tears drip down onto the knees of my jeans.

Maybe I really am just like him.


	6. Chapter 6 If You Call This Normal

**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 6: If You Call This ****Normal**

When I wake up the next morning I wish I hadn't. How can I get up, and face people? How can I face _her_? But I remind myself I'm not here to make friends, I'm here to get an education. Which I'm determined to do no matter how mean people are. Anyhow, the kids at home treat me like shit too, and I get through that okay, I tell myself.

Not to mention, I'm absolutely starving, since I didn't have any supper last night. It's actually not too bad as I shower and then head off to Bartlett Hall; people stare at me and some of them smirk, but nobody says anything. That's what usually happens when I walk by, so I guess everything's back to normal. If you call this normal.

My appetite is dampened a bit by the fact that Aerinah is sitting at the next table, but I just ignore her, and she doesn't seem to have anything else she wants to say to me either. Which is fine by me. The farther away she stays from me, the better.

I slog through my morning class, get some homework done, and head back to the dining hall for lunch. Unfortunately Aerinah's there again, and the only place to sit is at the same table, across from her and about four places farther down. But she still seems to be ignoring me. Which is good, I remind myself.

I'm just about done my burgers and fries when I hear someone talking about me. I can't see who it is, cause there's a pillar in the way, but it sounds like that jerk Darren and his friend Jason. "Yeah, what a freak, I'm telling you," the guy that sounds like Jason is saying. "But seriously, man, where'd you get it? If you can get in people's rooms, I need to know. Cause we need to get into Christina Mendoza's room, you know what I'm saying?"

The other guy laughs. That's definitely Darren: he's got a pretty distinctive laugh, high and wheezy and really annoying. "Dude, I wish," he says. "Nah, I found it. The big retard dropped his bag in the library. Papers everywhere. He missed the poem cause it slid under a bookcase, so after he left I just went over and picked it up. And it was so funny, fucking pathetic, man, I just thought it was like, my civic duty to share it with the rest of the dorm."

I remember that now. I went to the library to get a book, and I dropped my backpack when it was open, and all my stuff flew out. That was early in the morning, _before_ I ran into Aerinah peeking out of the bathroom.

I feel like I just got hit in the face with a bucket of cold water. I made a mistake; it wasn't Aerinah after all. I glance over at her as Darren and Jason laugh. She's looking at them (the pillar's not in her way) but then she looks back at me. She's got the same expression on her face that she had last night, in front of the bulletin board, and I still can't read it. Sympathy? Pity? Confusion?

Then I realize it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter that she didn't do it, it doesn't matter if she thought it was funny or pathetic or if she really felt bad for me. I can't be friends with her. It's too dangerous.

I stand up abruptly and step around the pillar. Darren glances at me casually, not surprised, and I wonder if he knew I was there all along. "Not to mention," he continues, as if he's talking to Jason, "I thought if I put it on the bulletin board then Max would be able to find it. I didn't know his room number, after all, so how else could I return it?" The wide-eyed look of innocence he's putting on has Jason laughing so hard his face is purple.

Darren finally turns to face me. "You're welcome, big guy," he says with fake cheer, and reaches up to clap me on the shoulder. Then he heads for the food line, a giggling Jason trailing in his wake.

I turn to leave and Aerinah's there, standing next to me, one hand outstretched, not quite touching my sleeve. "I was going to take your poem down, and give it back to you," she says. "That's why I was there, last night. They put it up on the board, not me."

I realize I'm just staring down at her. I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to apologize but most of me is terrified, remembering how angry I was at her last night. God, she's so small.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but before she can say it, before I can change my mind, I say harshly, "I don't care. Just stay away from me!"

I turn – but not so fast I miss the look of hurt on her face – and walk out of the dining hall as fast as I can.

So all through my next two classes, I can't concentrate. Cause I keep thinking, I've got English later this afternoon. With Aerinah. I don't want to face her again. I don't want to see her looking at me with that hurt in her eyes. Cause I feel bad enough about it already.

But it was the right thing to do, I keep telling myself. Okay, so maybe it wasn't her that put my poem on the bulletin board, but that doesn't prove anything. She doesn't really want to be friends with me, I'm sure; she was just nice to me cause she had to be. Cause if not for me, she would have been wandering around the dorm with no clothes on. And anyway, even if she did want to be friends, that's a bad idea. Cause she's so small and I'm so freaking huge, and I'd probably just end up hurting her somehow.

A voice in the back of my brain points out that Worm's about the same size as Aerinah – a little taller, but a lot skinnier – and I haven't hurt her. But I just tell it to shut up. This is different. I don't know why, exactly, but it just is.

----

So, at first I don't think English is going to be too bad. When Aerinah comes in she throws me one tight, furious glare, then she sits down in the corner across the room and doesn't look at me again.

I just sit there as the prof starts in, and as the class talks about the story. I don't put my hand up for anything, even though I could answer a few times, and Aerinah's not talking today either. Which is unusual for her, but whatever. She'll get over it.

Then, just as I'm finally starting to relax, thinking there's only like twenty minutes left and the class hasn't been that bad after all, Dr. Kuntz tells us to split into pairs and figure out the symbolism and significance of the husband and the doctor in the story. I start looking around, trying to catch someone's eye, but everyone is very deliberately not looking at Huge Neanderthal Freak Boy, and pretty soon everybody has a partner.

Except me.

And except Aerinah.

She's not even looking around; she's ignoring everybody and doodling in her notebook, making angry scratches with a black pen.

"Max," Dr. Kuntz says. "Aerinah – you two can work together."

When neither of us moves, he frowns and says, "Come on now, we've got a lot of work to do."

Aerinah still doesn't budge, so I stand up reluctantly and go sit next to her. There's nobody else within five seats of us, and I feel like I'm in the center of this cold pocket, cause I can feel her anger coming off her like ice.

Neither of us says anything for a while. My stupid mouth keeps wanting to tell her stuff, like that I'm not really mad, or that I know it wasn't her that put my poem up on the bulletin board, but every time it tries I make it stop. It's better this way. Even if it doesn't feel like it.

Finally Aerinah slams her book shut, and I jump about a foot in the air. "Okay," she says, quietly but fiercely. "Explain this to me."

"What?" I say, like the big dummy I am.

"Why you're being such an _asshole_," she hisses, and suddenly her eyes are flashing. "You still think I had something to do with your poem ending up on the bulletin board?"

I'm just looking at her. I'm thinking I should just say yes, then she'll never talk to me again. But I can't do it.

"Well, I _didn't_," she says.

_I don't believe you_, I'm thinking in my head. _Just lie, it's safer that way._ I open my mouth to say it out loud, but instead I say "I know."

You'd think that'd calm her down, but now she looks madder than ever. "What?? Then why are you being such a jerk? I thought—" She pauses, looking down at the table, then tosses her orange hair over her shoulder and meets my eyes defiantly. "I thought we were friends."

For some reason that makes my stomach flip over.

She's still glaring at me, waiting for me to say something. I can see a few of our classmates watching us surreptitiously as they pretend to look through their readers. I don't really know how to explain, but I guess I'll try. "I did think it was you, at first," I whisper. "Cause you were in my room, so you know, I just assumed--"

"Yeah," she says impatiently, "I figured as much. But then today, you heard Darren say it was him. And it was _after _that that you yelled at me. I don't get why you were still mad, after you knew it was him and not me."

I don't know how to make her understand. "I wasn't still mad at you."

"Max," she says, exasperated. "You _yelled_ at me. You told me to stay away from you. If you weren't mad and you knew I didn't take your poem, then what was it? You just don't like me?"

"No," I say. "I mean yes. Uh, I mean -" Now I'm getting frustrated.

Aerinah jumps up abruptly and sweeps her books and pens and stuff into her backpack. "You know what, forget it," she says. Her voice is brittle and too high, and she sweeps me with one last furious glance before she turns and walks out of the room.

I can't think what to say, and then she's gone. Well, if I wanted her to hate my guts, I guess I succeeded. But as I watch her storm off it's like with every step she's stomping on my chest, till I can hardly breathe. I feel like I just made the biggest mistake of my life.

And everybody's staring at me like I'm the biggest freak they've ever seen.


	7. Chapter 7 This Magical Day

**Author's Note: **The song lyrics quoted in this chapter are from "Carnival", by Tori Amos. This is a great song – Tori Amos rocks. Also, it occurred to me that I should point out, if anyone out there doesn't already know, that Kevin and Freak are the same person. Sorry if this has caused any confusion.

* * *

**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 7: This Magical Day**

So after that, it's like for Aerinah, I don't even exist. She goes back to sitting where she used to sit in paleo – or at least I assume it's where she used to sit, in the middle section of seats but six rows up. She keeps sitting across the room from me in English, and she starts talking in class again, but she never speaks to me or even looks at me. I still haven't seen her talking to other people, outside of class, but when she doesn't know I'm around she looks relaxed, and she smiles to herself sometimes about whatever she's thinking. But when she sees me in the hallway or outside she sets her jaw, stares straight ahead, and walks faster till she's past.

Now the only time I talk to anyone is in class, or during my weekly phone calls with Gram and Grim and the Worm. I'm back to not having any friends, back to having nothing to do except study and go to movies by myself and write letters to Worm. Which ought to be business as usual, cause that's the way my life has always been. Except the studying part, I guess. And for most of my life, before Rachel and before Kevin, I didn't have any friends at all. So you'd think I'd be used to it by now.

But for some reason, the more Aerinah ignores me, the more I want to talk to her. Only I don't know what to say; it's too late now. And I seem to run into her everywhere. I know she's trying to avoid me but we live in the same building, eat in the same dining hall, take some of the same classes, study some of the same stuff; we're bound to run into each other. I keep seeing her in the library, and the computer lab, and the quad, and everywhere.

This one time, I was in the library looking for a book for my English essay, and I saw her down a dim aisle, trying to reach a book off the top shelf. I started to walk over, figuring I could get the book for her and then maybe she could hit me with it if she wanted, but she saw me coming, climbed up the bookcase like it was a ladder, and got the book herself. Then she disappeared down the other end of the aisle. Without looking back.

Or, another time, I went for a walk to the lake, and I didn't come back till really late, after midnight. It was wonderful outside, though, windy and cool and sharp, and there were crisp leaves all over the ground, crunching under my feet. The stars looked almost as clear over the quad as they had over the lake, and I was just standing there looking at them, thinking about something Kevin told me once. About how looking at the stars is almost like going back in time, cause the light we see has actually been travelling for millions or billions of years.

That made me think of Aerinah, and how she got so excited talking about dinosaurs that day, in my room. She said scientists had made models that showed brachiosaurs couldn't raise their heads higher than parallel to their bodies, and that pterosaurs weren't good fliers, couldn't take off from the ground, but had to jump off cliffs to get going. But she said they'd also made models that _proved_ bumblebees couldn't fly, and that anyone who had never seen a live mountain goat or a live horse would believe, just from looking at their bones, that a goat could climb a vertical cliff, or that a horse could swim. "So all that really proves is the limitations of models," Aerinah said.

I remember how excited she was, her eyes flashing bright green, and how my shirt, miles too big for her, slipped down her shoulder as she waved her arms around. "Dinosaurs – and extinct organisms in general – were a lot more successful than we think," she said. "If we could go back in time, we could see brachiosaurs rearing, and _T. rex_ hunting, and pterosaurs flying, no problem. I'd give anything to just _see _that, you know?"

So I'm just looking at the stars, thinking about time travel and dinosaurs and the longing in her voice, when this movement catches my eye. There's a dark patch on the hill about twenty feet away from me, that I thought was a shadow or a pile of leaves or something, but when it moves again I realize it's actually a person, lying on the grass and looking up at the sky.

It's Aerinah, and the movement that caught my eye was her reaching up to push her hair out of her face, and clasp her hands behind her head. She's murmuring something, almost whispering, and I move closer, as quietly as I can, so I can hear what it is. After a few moments I recognize one of my favorite poems: "Epistle to be left in the Earth," by Archibald Macleish. Sounds like she has the whole thing memorized, which is so cool. I never met anybody else who did that before.

The desolate lines mesh perfectly with the bright stars and the chill November air. Aerinah closes her eyes, and her hair is like a dying sunset, muted gold and orange, around her pale face. I mouth the last few lines along with her.

_It is very cold  
there are strange stars near Arcturus  
Voices are crying an unknown name in the sky_

I notice there's a spiral-bound book on the ground beside her. I wonder if it's her journal. Maybe she was out here writing in her journal, and looking at the stars. I wonder what she was writing, and what she's thinking.

I've kept a journal off and on, since Freak died. It helped me a lot, to write down our adventures together; and later I wrote down everything that happened when Worm and I ran away, so we wouldn't forget anything. I haven't had much to write about lately though – unless you think homework is exciting, there isn't much happening in my life right now – so I've been writing more poems lately instead. They're not very good, but I guess maybe if I keep at I might get better, and like I said, it kind of helps sometimes to write down what I'm feeling. Maybe if I had someone to talk to I wouldn't need to, but there's nobody around here I can talk to now. I tell Worm most things, but not everything. And some stuff, even if I _would_ tell her in person, I don't feel comfortable typing in an email in the computer lab. Even when I get a seat in the back of the room I still feel like people are looking over my shoulder, reading what I'm writing.

Suddenly I realize Aerinah's moving. She opens her eyes, picks up her journal, and stands up; and I panic and duck behind a tree, hoping she doesn't see me as she passes by. What the hell would I say if she did? '_I know you hate me, and you think I hate you, but I can't stop watching you'?_ And what's up with that, anyway? I don't understand why I can't just forget about her.

I wait a few minutes, to let Aerinah get a head start, and then I follow her back to the dorm, and go to bed.

----

That was a few weeks ago. Now it's a Sunday, and I'm at the mall. I'm going to go to a matinee in a bit, but the movie I want to see doesn't start for like forty-five minutes, so I'm killing time in fye, looking at CDs. It's not busy in here for some reason, maybe cause the first real snowfall of the year is coming down outside. I don't see anyone else in the rock section at all. The only Tool they have is _Undertow_ and _Aenima_; I have those two already, and I don't really see anything else I'm in the mood for. But I have nothing else to do and they're playing cool music (right now it's "Flurry," by Social Code), so I step around into the next aisle and start working up the S section.

"Flurry" ends and this slow, sexy kind of song starts playing. It has this throbbing beat and sort of twinkly sparkly sounds in the background – like when you're watching a play that happens in the winter, and there's supposed to be snow falling, so they sprinkle whatever they use for fake snow and play this tinkly sound effect. It's like that.

I'm thinking it's a perfect song for today, whatever it is. And then a woman starts singing, so slowly I can barely make out the words, and her voice is so beautiful, it takes my breath away.

_I sing to the sun in the sky  
I sing to the sun rising high  
Carnival time is here; magical time of year  
And as the time draws near, dreams fill my heart  
  
_

I turn to look at the CDs on the other side of the row and something bright orange catches my eye.

It's Aerinah.

She's a couple of rows away from me, looking at CDs, and singing along with the music. She's dancing too, sort of; swaying her hips and skimming her hands over the rows of disks. Then, as I watch, she closes her eyes and tilts her head back.

_I'll sing while he plays his guitar  
I'll sing as the night wakes the dawn  
Will love come my way on this magical day?  
And will hope stay in my heart?_

I realize I'm just standing there staring, and probably I look like either a big retard or else some kind of pervert, but I can't stop. I've never seen anything like this. I remember when Joanie got Worm to dance with her in the Prairie Schooner that one day, it was cool cause Worm kind of got lost in it; she was having such a good time you could see she forgot everything except the music, for a little while. I can tell Aerinah's feeling the same way: she's miles away from here, and she isn't feeling anything except this song. But this is different for me.

This is nothing like watching my sister dance.

_I sing while he plays his guitar  
I sing in my dream from afar  
Will love come my way on this magical day?  
And will love stay in my heart?  
Will true love come my way on this magical day  
Or will love only live in my…_

The music changes; it's pulsating and really sexy, and I can't understand any of the words now, but it doesn't matter because it's still the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. And seen.

I don't know why, really; I've seen lots of dancing, and heard lots of singing, and seen lots of beautiful women, on TV and in movies and stuff. And Aerinah is short and plump and just a girl dancing by herself in a record store. But she's real, and I don't know, there's just something about how she's so lost in the music. Or maybe it's how she doesn't seem to care if anyone's watching her.

Of course, she probably doesn't think anyone _is _watching her. If she knew I was standing here staring at her like some psycho stalker, maybe she wouldn't be so carefree. But I don't know, somehow I think she would. I can't explain it, I just feel it.

"Can I help you find something?" this girl says suddenly right behind me, and I just about jump out of my skin.

"Um, no thanks," I mutter, looking anywhere but at her. Or at Aerinah. I can feel my face burning. "Uh, I don't think I want anything today." Then I haul ass out of there – but I look back as I'm going through the doorway, to see if Aerinah saw me. I don't think she did. There's a different song playing now, and she's back to looking at the CDs, not dancing anymore.

I'm glad she didn't catch me staring at her, but I almost wish she had seen me. I wonder, if she had, or if I went up and said hi, and if I said I was sorry for yelling at her that day, if she'd want to hang out with me for a while.

Yeah, probably not.

And I wish I knew what that song was.

----

I kill another fifteen minutes in the bookstore – I pick up a collection of poems by e. e. cummings on sale, which is awesome; he's my all-time favorite poet – and then head over to the theater. I get my ticket from one of those automated machines, and get a large popcorn and drink combo from a real person. Then I try to go into the theater and sit down, but the girl taking tickets tells me they're still cleaning it. (She looks absolutely terrified of me, like she thinks if she doesn't let me in I might twist her head off like a bottle cap, or maybe eat her.)

So I turn around and head for the tables and chairs in the corner, and I see Aerinah sitting there. She's waiting to get in to the movie too, looks like – there's a medium pop, a box of Junior Mints, and a ticket on her table. She's also holding a book open in front of her – _Contact_, by Carl Sagan (I read it last year, it was really good) – but she's not reading it. She's looking at me, and when I meet her eyes my stomach does this weird little somersault. This is the first time she's looked at me in like three weeks.

Maybe that's why I go over to her table. "Hi," I say nervously. "Uh, can I, um, join you?"

There's a long pause while several emotions chase across her face, so fast I can't catch them all. I can see for sure that she trusts me about as far as she could throw me. Which I admit I deserve.

"Okay," she says finally, closing her book and moving her stuff over so I can set my food down.

Now that I'm here I have no idea what to say to her. "That's a great book," I say, pointing at the paperback. "The ending kicks ass; way better than the movie."

"Yeah, I know," she says slowly, studying my face like she's trying to figure out what I'm really thinking. _I_ don't even know what I'm thinking. "I've read it like five times already; it's one of my favorites."

"Yeah, it was great," I say. _You said that already, moron_. I'm just rambling now. "Um, you want some popcorn?"

"No," she says, frowning; then, "Max, what do you want? Why are you talking to me? You don't like me. Remember?"

"Oh," I say. God, I'm going to have to do better than that. She looks just about ready to jump up and walk away. Like last time.

"I... that's not what I meant," I say. "I don't not like you. I mean, I _do_ l—" Shit, I can't say that. And I have to stop babbling like an idiot.

I take a deep breath. "Aerinah." I say. Good start; now what? "Look, I… I was pretty upset that day, about my poem. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know it wasn't your fault. Can we just…" I trail off. Just what?

Aerinah still looks cautious, but she doesn't look pissed off anymore, which is a good sign. "Start over?" she says.

"Yeah," I say gratefully. "Start over."

She gives me this long look, really intense, like she's reading my secrets right from my face, and I can feel myself turning red, but I force myself to look back. Grim says if a man's honest he'll look you in the eye; if he doesn't, then you know to steer clear of him.

"Alright," she says quietly.

"Great," I say, and I can't help it, I have this big stupid grin on my face.

Aerinah smiles back at me, guarded but genuine, and suddenly today feels like a really good day.

Behind me the ticket girl calls out "Theater 2 is ready for seating!" and Aerinah stands up, starts gathering up her stuff. So I'm wondering, now that we're friends or whatever, now that we're starting over, does that mean we're going to sit together, or not?

Aerinah starts for the theater, then looks back at me, still sitting at the table like a moron. "Max? You coming?"

"Yeah," I say, jumping up (and grabbing my popcorn so enthusiastically a third of it spills up out of the bag). I follow her into the theater, and all I can think is, at least she's in front of me so she can't see the stupid grin that's plastered on my face again.


	8. Chapter 8 Make a Wish

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry this chapter was so long in coming. However, my specialist exam is finally out of the way, so I should have more time now to devote to Max and Aerinah. Just so you know, the book referred to in this chapter (_100 Selected Poems_, by e. e. cummings) really exists, and the poems and page numbers Max refers to really correspond to those in the book. The "----" are meant to be section breaks - I couldn't get it to do short lines like usual. Finally, I have included another original poem of mine – please don't use it anywhere else. Also, please review if you have a moment – I would love to hear your thoughts. Thanks!

* * *

**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 8: Make a Wish**

I'm sitting on a bench in front of the dorm, my duffel bag at my feet, waiting for Grim and Rachel. They're coming to pick me up, because it's Thanksgiving at last, and I get to go home for four whole days. I can't wait to see the Worm, especially. I really miss her. Technically she ought to be in school today, but apparently she kicked up such a fuss about wanting to come along to pick me up that her mom finally gave in, figuring if she didn't Worm wouldn't have paid any attention in school anyhow.

I know the feeling. I went to all of my classes today, but I sure didn't pay much attention to the lectures. Especially in paleo, because not only was I excited about coming home, but also, Aerinah sat next to me today. I think maybe we're really starting to be friends again, ever since we went to that movie together last weekend. Which is really good. I didn't see her on my way outside, and I wonder what she's doing for Thanksgiving. Do they even have Thanksgiving in Canada? I can't remember.

I'm getting kind of cold just sitting out here, so I stand up and walk around a bit, and I see Aerinah coming up the sidewalk towards the dorm. I call her name, but she doesn't look around. For a minute I'm afraid that maybe she's decided to go back to ignoring me, but then I figure she just didn't hear me, so I call her name again and step onto the sidewalk, in front of her.

She looks around, surprised, and blinks a few times. She looks like she's just waking up, except she wasn't sleeping, she was walking. "Oh, hi, Max," she says, finally focusing on me. "How are you?"

"Good," I say. I remember what she said in my room that one day, about her not noticing people or whatever, and that's why she walked into me that time. I guess it's true. "You looked like you were thinking hard about something."

"Yeah, I guess," she laughs, glancing up at me. "I daydream when I walk."

"About what?" I ask, sitting down again.

"Oh, you know," she says, sitting on the other end of the bench and drawing her knees up. "Um, girl stuff." She sounds kind of embarrassed, and I think she might be blushing, although it's hard to tell cause it's dark out. I guess maybe she was thinking about a boy. I wonder who she likes. But of course, it's none of my business.

"So what are you doing out here?" Aerinah asks, changing the subject. She notices my duffel bag. "You going somewhere?"

"Yeah," I say, remembering, and I'm excited all over again. "I'm going home for Thanksgiving."

She smiles at the enthusiasm in my voice. "That's cool."

She doesn't say anything about her plans, so I ask her if she's doing anything for the long weekend.

"No," she says. "I didn't even know it was Thanksgiving here. Our Thanksgiving – Canadian Thanksgiving – was last month."

"Oh," I say. I don't remember her being gone, but of course that was when we weren't talking, so it's possible I might not have noticed. "Did you go home for that?"

"No," she says wistfully. "That was the first Thanksgiving my whole life I haven't spent with my family. But I'm planning to go home for Christmas and Reading Week, and I couldn't afford to go for Thanksgiving too."

I'm trying to think of something else to say when a horn starts honking, and this big old school bus, repainted in ugly swoops of pink and yellow and peach and purple, pulls up right in front of us.

"No way!" I shout, jumping to my feet. The door of the Prairie Schooner opens, and my grandfather steps out, followed by the Dippy Hippie himself.

Grim just kind of pats me on the shoulder, but I can tell he's glad to see me, even if he doesn't really know how to show it. Dip, on the other hand, gives me a big hug, reaching as far around me as he can to clap me on the back.

He starts telling me how he was heading west anyhow when he heard Grim was coming to pick me up, and offered to drive instead, but I miss most of what he's saying because all of a sudden Worm comes leaping down the steps and throws herself into my arms. "Max!" she's shouting, "I missed you! I fell asleep; why didn't you wake me up when we got here?" This last part is directed at Grim, who's gathering up my stuff, and Dip, who's introducing himself to Aerinah. Neither of them pays any attention to her shouting.

Then Worm notices Aerinah and starts wiggling, so I put her down. "Aerinah!" she says happily. "Hi, how are you?"

"Great, thanks," Aerinah says. She's smiling at Rachel's excitement, but she also looks puzzled. "How did you know my name?"

"From Max," Worm says, like it should be obvious, and I'm trying to think how to shut her up before she says something really embarrassing. "He talks about you all the—"

Oh God. I open my mouth to say something (what, I have no idea) when Grim, bless his pointed head, steps up in front of Aerinah and sticks out his hand. "Hi, there," he's saying. "Are you a friend of Max's?"

"Um, yes," she says, glancing at me while shaking Grim's hand, and I hurriedly introduce them. Grim's looking askance at her fluorescent orange hair, but he doesn't say anything about it, and Aerinah's still giving me this strange look, kind of thoughtful I guess, and she's smiling this tiny little smile. I wonder if she's laughing at me.

Rachel's looking from me to Aerinah and back with this big grin on her face, but before she can embarrass me further I say, "Well, it's pretty cold out, maybe we should get going."

"Right you are, Max!" Dip shouts gleefully. He tips an imaginary hat to Aerinah and climbs back onto the bus. Grim and Rachel both give Aerinah one last look – Grim kind of puzzled and Rachel still grinning away – but then, thank god, they just say "Bye!" (Rachel) and "Pleasure to meet you," (Grim), and head for the bus.

"Um," I say, like an idiot, glancing at Aerinah. I can't wait to be home, and I really want to get out of there before Rachel yells something embarrassing out the window, but I also feel kind of bad leaving Aerinah. It's sad that she has to spend the holiday alone.

"Well, have a good weekend," Aerinah's saying.

"Um, yeah," I say. "You too." There's this awkward pause where I notice Aerinah's cheeks are glowing pink in the cold, and her eyes are sparkling in the streetlights, and I realize I'm just staring down at her like a moron.

Then I turn around and climb up the steps into the Prairie Schooner, hunched over so I don't whack my head on the roof of the bus. Dip waves at Aerinah one last time and shuts the doors, and then we're pulling away into the night.

"----"

We have Thanksgiving dinner the next day, and it's awesome. Gram's always a good cook, but the way she shows you she misses you or whatever is by going all out – cooking all your favorite stuff just the way you like it. Of course, she still thinks my favorite meal is spaghetti and meatballs, which it hasn't been for years, but it doesn't matter since nobody has spaghetti for Thanksgiving. There's turkey – which really is my favorite – and stuffing and mashed potatoes with gravy, and baked corn with cream, and cranberry sauce, and of course Gram's famous mint sauce, which Dip and I keep trying to hoard at opposite ends of the table.

Everybody wants to know how school's going, so I tell them about my classes, and what books we're reading for English Lit, and how I got 90 on my _Frankenstein_ essay. I can tell they're really proud of me – Grim keeps clearing his throat, and Gram's going "Well, well," and patting my hand. Dip gives me a big thumbs up (just about knocking over the gravy boat). Worm is so excited about everything she can't sit still, and her mom tells her at least three times to calm down, but she's laughing when she says it, and I don't think she really minds how hyper Rachel is. We're all excited to be together again. I'm really glad to be home.

Except I also keep thinking about school, and about Aerinah. I hope she's not too lonely.

Grim fishes out the turkey's wishbone and gives it to Rachel, and she holds one end out to me. "Make a wish!" she says, and then we both pull, and I end up with the bigger half. That means my wish is supposed to come true.

"----"

"Whatcha reading?" I look up as Worm plops down on the foot of my bed, and hold up my book so she can see the cover. "_100 Selected Poems_, by e. e. cummings," she reads. It's the book I bought the day Aerinah started talking to me again.

"Who's he?" Rachel asks. "Is his stuff any good?"

"He's my favorite poet ever," I tell her, giving her the book so she can flip through it. "He makes words do things that nobody else ever thought of. Like this one," I say, stopping her when she gets to 'anyone lived in a pretty how town'.

She reads it carefully, her eyes glittering fiercely like they always do when she's absorbed in a book. "Wow, I see what you mean," she says. "Like 'anyone' and 'noone' could mean what they usually mean, or they could be people's names too."

She keeps flipping pages, going from back to front, reading a line here, a verse there. "They're hard to understand, though, with the words put together so funny. It's pretty, but I don't know… do you get what they all mean?"

"Some of them, I do," I say. I take the book back and turn to page 44, to this poem that starts 'somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond'. "Try that one; it's easier than a lot of them. And it's beautiful."

Rachel reads the five stanzas, then looks up, smiling. "You're right, it's beautiful. Is that your favorite one?"

"I don't know, maybe," I say. It's definitely one of my favorites. There's this other one, that starts 'since feeling is first', that I really like too, but I don't really get it. I mean, I can tell it's about how much a guy loves a girl, but he's trying to convince her of something, or maybe trying to convince himself, and I don't really get what that part's about.

I don't say any of that to the Worm, though, because she's already sort of smirking at me, so I figure it's time to quit talking about sappy love poems.

Then Worm asks me about the poems I've been writing, that I told her about in an email a couple of months ago. I go get my poem folder out of my backpack and give her the one about the dead king and the reincarnated lady, that came out of this cool dream I had.

I'm flipping through my other stuff while she reads, and I stop on 'A Different Point of View,' remembering how angry I got when I thought Aerinah had taken it, and how she didn't talk to me for like a month after that.

"So what's this one about?" Worm says, interrupting my thoughts, and before I can react she grabs the paper out of my hand and starts reading it.

"Wait, don't," I say, trying to snatch it back, but it's too late – the poem's only six lines long, and she's already read the whole thing.

Rachel gives me this knowing smirk. "Is this about Aerinah?" she asks.

"No.. well, not really," I say, blushing. I don't really know how to explain. I didn't think it was about Aerinah when I wrote it, but now I think maybe it was and I just didn't know it. Or maybe now it's just all mixed up in my head with her being the one who found it on the bulletin board, I don't know.

"But I don't get it," Rachel is saying. "The poem makes it sound like she's scared of you. But she's your friend, right? So she's not really scared of you, is she?"

"No, I guess not, but I wrote that before we were friends," I say. I don't really feel like talking about this. I didn't want anybody to see this poem, and now my whole dorm and my sister have read it. I should just burn the damn thing.

"And what does the title mean?" Worm persists. "Is it cause you're writing about a girl, and you're a boy?"

"Yeah, sort of," I say uncomfortably.

Rachel looks up, meeting my eyes. "You like her, don't you?" she says, and this time she's not teasing, she's serious.

"No – I don't know… we're just friends," I say, but I'm blushing furiously all of a sudden. Maybe I do like her, like that. I guess that would explain why I can't stop thinking about her. But I don't want to say it out loud, not even to Rachel. I know I can trust her with anything, but this is different. I can't talk about girls, not even with Worm. Girls and Max Kane just don't belong in the same conversation, you know?

I guess Rachel can see I don't really want to talk about it any more, because she gives the poem back to me, and says she's going to go see what Gram and her mom are up to.

I read the poem over again after Rachel leaves. I remember Darren and that girl with long brown hair teasing me about the title. What it really means, what I didn't want to tell anybody, is that it's actually about what _I_ feel. I wrote it like it's about a girl – that's the different point of view – but it's really me that's scared. Scared of trusting people, scared of getting laughed at, scared of getting hurt. Only I can't tell anybody that. That's the really lame part about being such a huge freak. People are scared of me, I'm not supposed to be scared of them, and if anybody finds out I am, they think it's the funniest thing they've ever heard.

I stuff the folder of poems back into my bag and go see what everyone else is up to. I only have two more days before I go back to school; I should spend them with my family. And quit thinking about Aerinah.

* * *

This isn't a crucial part of the story (and I also thought it was a bit too girly to have been written by Max), so I didn't integrate it into the chapter, but if anyone's curious, here's the poem about the dead king and his reincarnated lover. I wrote this when I was 14. It was mostly based on this dream I had, but also on this eerie movie called _Shadow Play_, and on the character of King Peter in Stephen King's _The Eyes of the Dragon_: 

A girl awakes in the midnight rain  
Driven by instinct, she tries in vain  
To discover the key to her dream – a name –  
A name she cannot remember.

The dream returns in the midnight hour  
The name is there – she can feel its power  
The dream, each night, unfolds like a flower,  
But the name… she cannot remember.

The name inspires love and attention;  
It sings of brave deeds and a King's compassion  
The soul of the King who calls her to action.  
His name – she must remember!

A storm arises in the dark of night;  
The girl awakes with a cry of fright.  
The name is so close! With all her might  
She wills herself to remember

The King, who has for ages lain  
Was torn from his love – both feel the pain  
He calls in her dreams, but it seems in vain  
That the two may one day be united again.

She sleeps and wakes and tries again  
She dreamt of a lover long ago slain…  
She remembers! He wills her to utter his name!  
She screams it out to the howling rain –

And follows the echo over the side  
To return to a lover who long ago died  
– Her face enraptured, her arms thrown wide –  
She is lost in the motion of the ocean tide.


	9. Chapter 9 Snowballs and Handkerchiefs

This chapter is brought to you by my hardworking beta, carmensandiego1, and my wonderful reviewers, Rose Red2, Saturniia, and especially my best girl alienated lycanthrope. You guys rock - thank you so much for all your feedback and support. I'll keep writing if you keep reading (and reviewing):P

Oh yeah - it has come to my attention that some people aren't sure how 'Aerinah' is supposed to be pronounced. It's meant to sound like 'Erin-a' (or even 'Air-na' if you're in a hurry). Hope this clears up any potential confusion.

* * *

A Better Fate Than Wisdom

Chapter 9: Snowballs and Handkerchiefs

So I'm in the little courtyard behind Maclean House, throwing snowballs at the building and trying to convince myself to stop being such a chickenshit. I'm bored, right, and I should probably be studying for my paleo final, which is on Monday, but I'm thinking what I'd really like to do is go knock on Aerinah's door and see if maybe she'd like to go to a movie or something. And you'd think since we seem to be friends again now, and we saw that movie together a few weeks ago, I ought to be able to just go up to her and say, "Hey, you want to hang out?" Sure, no problem.

Only I'm chickenshit, like I said. And just because she's spent some time with me doesn't mean she'd say yes to this. Yeah, we really seem to be friends now, and she seemed pretty happy to see me when I got back from Thanksgiving. Not half as happy as I was to see her – I didn't realize till I saw her again how much I had missed her. Which I guess is dumb since I don't even know her all that well, but I don't know, that's just how it felt. So yeah, we're getting to be friends, I guess, but this is not just sitting together in class or the dining hall. We haven't ever done anything together that wasn't totally school-related. There was that movie a few weeks ago, okay, but we only just happened to run into each other at the theater; it's not like we went together.

And another thing, it's Friday night, so that would pretty much mean I'd be asking her on a date. And even if it didn't _have_ to be a date, I'd _want_ it to be a date. But there's a problem with that. See, Frankenstein's monster doesn't ask girls on dates. And if he ever did, they'd laugh in his face. Or run away screaming.

So instead I'm out here trying to make a face on the back door with snowballs. The snow is nice and sticky because it's not all that cold, so it's actually working pretty well.

I'm just throwing the snowball for the left eye when the door opens. Aerinah steps out, and before I can say anything the snowball hits her right in the forehead.

"Hey!" she splutters. I'm trying to apologize but she's already bent over digging around on the ground, and before I figure out what she's doing this big clump of snow explodes in my face.

I can hear her giggling as I wipe my eyes, and when I can finally see again I'm just in time to duck her next throw. We both keep scooping up more snowballs and pelting them at each other, usually missing but sometimes making some good hits. (I'm careful not to throw very hard.) This is fun; I've never had a snowball fight with anybody before.

We've used up most of the snow in the little courtyard and have to move closer and closer to each other as we use the snow between us. I wait till she's bent down reaching for a big handful before I fire my next shot, and it hits her shoulder and explodes, filling her orange hair with sparkling drops.

"That's it, Kane, you're DEAD!" she shouts, still laughing, but instead of standing up and throwing a snowball at me like I expect, she lunges forward, grabs my bootlaces with both hands, and yanks. Next thing I know I'm flat on my back, gasping because I got the wind knocked out of me, and then she drops an armful of snow right in my face.

Pretty slick move, I'm thinking as I'm spluttering, but she made a mistake standing so close to me after she knocked me over. I grab the front of her sweater with one hand and sweep her feet out from under her with the other.

She makes this 'Oof!' sound when she hits the ground beside me, but she's still giggling, so I toss my last handful of snow at her. She's trying to crawl away, so I grab her by the ankle with one hand and try to find some snow with the other, but we've pretty much used it all up. So I tickle her side instead.

Now she's actually shrieking with laughter, and I'm laughing so hard myself I can barely hold onto her. Then, she squirms over onto her side, knocks my hand away, and tackles me. I'm totally not expecting it, and it's my turn to go 'Oof!' as I land flat on my back for the second time in a row.

For a minute I just lie there, because I'm not sure what to do. I'm just looking at her, so close I can see the flecks of grey in her green eyes, and feeling her lying on top of me, her warm laughter touching my cheek and her hair fanned out over my chest. Her hair smells like apples.

Then she's tickling under my arms with both hands, and I discover to my surprise – because nobody's ever done that before – that I'm really ticklish. I start squirming around, which is a big mistake because it makes us rub together in all kinds of interesting ways I really shouldn't be thinking about right now, but I can't help it, it tickles so much; so finally I grab her hands and yank them away from my sides.

Which turns out to be a really butt-stupid thing to do, because she loses her balance and crashes face-first into my shoulder.

"Oh!" she says, sitting up and putting her hands to her face.

"Oh, shit," I say. Her nose is bleeding. _Way to go, asshole_, I'm yelling in my head. _That was brilliant, why don't you punch her in the stomach while you're at it?_

I sit up too and start rooting around in my pockets, which is kind of hard to do with a lapful of warm girl, and again, that's so not what I should be thinking about right now. With any luck I'll have a handkerchief somewhere; every chance she gets Gram is shoving them into my pockets. I take them out when I find them – I mean, gross, like I want to blow my nose on some rag and then keep it – but I'm thinking I could sure use one right now.

There aren't any in my coat pockets, but I finally find one in the left front pocket of my jeans. "Here," I say, holding it out to her.

Aerinah lets go of her nose and goes to wipe it with the handkerchief, but there's still blood dripping out. "You gotta pinch it," I say, and gently touch just below the bridge of her nose. "Here. Really tight, okay?" I guess she doesn't get conked in the nose very often. Probably doesn't know too many big Neanderthal goons like me, and good thing too.

"'Kay," she says, her voice muffled.

I'm feeling awkward that we're still so close. I mean, she's sitting on top of me, straddling my legs, her face only inches from mine. Don't get me wrong, I like it, but at the same time it's kind of too much, if you know what I mean. Not to mention my ass is getting wet from sitting on the icy ground.

So I wrap one arm around her and stand up. There's a brick wall at the eastern edge of the courtyard, so I set her down on it, then back up a bit. The wall's high enough that we're almost eye to eye.

"Can I let go now?" she asks.

"Yeah, try it," I say.

She lets go of her nose and blinks at me cautiously. "Is it still bleeding?"

"Nope." I take the handkerchief and gently wipe the blood from her chin. "I'm really sorry, Aerinah," I say. "That was pretty dumb."

"Oh, that's okay," she says. "It was an accident."

"Yeah," I say, hanging my head, "but still, I should have been more careful—"

I break off as the courtyard door opens and a couple of guys come out to smoke. They're acting casual but I can see them giving us curious glances. Which is understandable, I guess; we probably look funny together at the best of times, and now we're both soaking wet and splattered with blood as well.

Aerinah must be thinking the same thing, because she says quietly, "Maybe we should go get cleaned up." She slides carefully down from the wall, and I go open the door. As soon as the door starts to swing shut behind me I hear the two guys start whispering and laughing. I can tell from the look on her face that Aerinah heard them too, but neither of us says anything about it.

So, part of me is thinking I should just call it quits for the night – I mean, I've already given her a bloody nose, god knows what kind of damage I might do to her if we spend any more time together – but another part of me doesn't want this to be over. "So, um, what are you doing tonight?" I ask her as we head up the back stairs.

"I don't know," she says, and grins wryly. "I was just coming to see what you were up to, when I got a snowball in the face."

Now that makes my stomach feel funny, but in a good way. Definitely a good way. _She_ was going to ask _me_ if I wanted to hang out.

"Oh," I say happily. "Want to go to a movie?"

"Sure," she says right away. "I just need to change and stuff. Pick me up in twenty minutes?"

"Okay," I say, trying not to grin like an idiot. She heads off towards her room, and I go the opposite way to mine, and I'm thinking, snowball fights are one of my new favorite things.


	10. Chapter 10 Crazy Circles

I'm posting this chapter today in order to mark a very special occasion: Elden Henson's 28th birthday. Happy birthday, Elden! And thanks again to all my reviewers, especially the new gals in town, antiIRONY, BlackRoseFt4, and Rocketshipper. Welcome aboard!

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**A Better Fate Than Wisdom**

**Chapter 10: Crazy Circles**

I put on a different pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, and the Blackhawks jersey I got for Christmas last year. It's getting kind of tight, but it still fits, and anyhow it's the coolest shirt I've got. I'm wondering if this is a date or what. Probably it isn't, but if it is, I guess I shouldn't wear a hat, so I head to the can to make sure my hair looks okay. And it does, but I notice I've still got this goofy grin on my face that I can't seem to get rid of. Oh well.

I've still got a few minutes to kill so I go to the computer lab to check my email. I don't have any new messages, and I'm just about to log off when Aerinah comes in. She's wearing bright orange boots, blue jeans, a black shirt, and this shiny, shimmery orange coat. And makeup, I think. Her eyes kind of look bigger and brighter than usual. And her lips look full and pink and really soft. And really kissable.

"Max?" she says, and I realize I'm staring. And that I missed whatever she said before my name. "Are you looking at the movie listings?"

"Oh," I say, tearing my eyes away. "Um, hang on." I google the theater to find their website, and by the time Aerinah sits down beside me, I've found the listings.

We settle on the latest James Cameron movie, which starts in an hour. Then I go back to my room to get my coat, and we head out.

"You want to walk, or take the bus?" I ask her when we get outside.

"Let's walk," she decides. Then she pokes me playfully in the side. "But listen, you're going to have to walk slow. My legs are like half as long as yours."

I look down and see that she's grinning up at me. "You know," I say, "It almost sounds like you like being really short."

"Well, sure I like it," she answers. "Why shouldn't I?"

I don't know what to say. But I think it's pretty cool. That's one of the things I really like about her, even though I don't understand it. She doesn't care if she's different or weird, she actually seems to enjoy it. In a way, it kind of reminds me of something Worm said once, about how she doesn't really care if people call her a Bookworm because it's sort of an honor, since books are so important. She said she actually feels sorry for the people who tease her about it, since they obviously don't understand how magical and exciting and powerful books can be. Aerinah's kind of like that, too. Not about books, necessarily, but about not being hurt or embarrassed when other people think she's strange.

So the whole way to the theater, I have trouble concentrating on our conversation, because I'm trying to decide if I should offer to buy Aerinah's ticket for her. The thing is, I don't want to creep her out by asking, if she just wants to be friends. But, I also don't want her to think I'm not interested in her, or that I'm cheap or whatever, by not offering. The other problem is, I don't know how to bring it up without making it sound like this is a date. Which I want it to be, but if that's not what she wants, then that would make everything really awkward, not to mention embarrassing.

Finally, when we get to the theater, what I do is just ask the guy at the counter for two tickets, and pull out my wallet. Aerinah starts digging around in her pockets for money, so I tell her, "It's okay, I got this." She gives me this big smile and lets me pay, which is great… but then when we go to the concession, she insists on paying for our drinks. So I'm not sure what that means.

When we get into the theater I let Aerinah pick the seats, and she marches right up to the back row, which surprises me since she sits near the front in classes. But I like the back better too.

I cram myself into my seat, careful not to elbow Aerinah in the head. Before she sits down, she folds her coat into a square, and then puts it behind her back. "The seats are too long," she explains when she sees me watching. "I need something behind me so the backs of my knees clear the edge of the chair." Aerinah glances down, at my knees crammed against the back of the seat in front of me. "I guess that's not a problem for you, huh?" she says cheerfully.

"Nope," I agree, smiling. You know, I usually hate it when people point out how big I am, but I don't mind so much when she does it. Maybe

because I can tell she's not doing it to make fun of me.

Then we don't talk for a while, and I'm feeling fidgety because I'm kind of nervous, but I'm trying to sit still. I'm not really hungry, but I realize if I had something to eat then I'd have something to do with my hands.

"I think I'm gonna go get some licorice," I say to Aerinah. "Do you want anything else?"

"No, I'm good," she says. She's smiling up at me, chin tilted, her right hand flicking a shining lock of hair back over her shoulder at the same time, and for some reason the juxtaposition makes my breath catch in my chest. "Thanks, though."

It's dim in the theater, and the steps are narrow, so I have to concentrate on not tripping over my enormous feet and landing on my ass. Which is kind of a relief. Because my mind is going around in these crazy circles, from Aerinah's smile to the smell of her hair to wondering if this is a date to imagining what might happen if I held her hand or… or kissed her… to telling myself we're just friends and not to be so stupid.

So that's what I've decided by the time I get back with the licorice. But then she smiles at me again, so her whole face lights up, and I'm back to thinking that maybe, just maybe, there's something special here after all.

The movie's pretty good, and I'm finally relaxing and getting into the story, when all of a sudden I feel Aerinah put her hand on my forearm. She leans towards me, her shoulder touching my arm, and I bend my head towards her. My heart's thumping so hard I can barely hear her whispering.

"Can I have some of your licorice?" she's saying.

"Sure," I whisper back, and hold the bag out to her. The candy's gotten all stuck together but between us we finally manage to wrestle a piece out for her.

"Thanks," she says softly, and she seems to look at me for a long time, before turning her attention back to the screen. She shifts in her seat as she nibbles the licorice, and her leg ends up just barely touching mine. She doesn't move it away, and I'm wondering if she did that on purpose or if she was just getting more comfortable. I keep turning these thoughts over in my head, and finally after a long time I realize the movie's over. And I hope she doesn't want to talk about the movie on the way home, because I have no idea what happened or what it was about.

Aerinah doesn't say anything about the movie, though. We don't talk much at all, really, on our way out of the theater. I can't think of anything to say – or at least, nothing that's not dangerous, like _I had a great time with you,_ or _Can I hold your hand?_ or _So, is this a date?_ – and she seems lost in thought.

It's a lot colder outside when we get out of the theater – the temperature has probably dropped ten degrees – so we decide to catch the bus back. When we get to the bus stop, Aerinah hops up on the bench and sits on the back of it. I stand in front of the bench, fidgeting around to keep warm. There's a crumpled old newspaper on the ground, and I kick snow over it until it's completely covered.

When I look up, Aerinah's watching me, but right away she looks down, biting her lip and tucking her hair behind her ear. She's still got her pop from the movie, and she starts rolling the cup around in her hands, making the ice rattle inside. I wonder if she's nervous, and if she's nervous for anything like the same reasons I'm nervous. I notice that her hands are really small, tiny even, with short little fingers, but they also look wide and strong.

I say the first thing that comes into my head. "Are you ready for paleo on Monday?"

"Yeah, I think so," she says, and I'm amazed how unconcerned she sounds about it. Tests always make me feel like I'm going to crawl right out of my skin. "I'll read my notes again over the weekend, but I don't think it'll be too bad. You?"

"I guess," I say unhappily. I wish I had half her confidence. "You think we'll really have to know all the geological periods and taxonomic groups and everything?"

She looks surprised. "Yeah, probably. I would think that'll be a big part of the exam, actually." Maybe she notices how worried I am when I hear that (freaked out is more like it; I have no idea how I'm going to keep all those weird, long, unpronounceable names straight), because she says, "I make up acronyms and mnemonics to remember stuff like that; I could show you. We could study together, tomorrow, or Sunday. I mean, if you want."

"Yeah," I say, and we both smile in a kind of goofy way. Or at least I can see she's got this lopsided grin on her face, and my face feels like it looks about the same. I take a step closer. "That would be really great. Um, what time d—"

"Hey, check it out!" someone shouts behind me, and I jump and spin around. A blue Camaro pulls up to the curb right next to us. All the windows are coming down, and I see that asshole Darren in the passenger seat; his buddy Jason is driving and there are two more of their friends in the back.

"Well, well, well," Darren smirks, looking from me to Aerinah and back. Aerinah's standing up on the bench now, her drink forgotten in one hand, the other hand clenched into a nervous fist. "If it isn't Maxi Pad and Air Jordan, out on a daa-ate…" His friends laugh; one of the guys in the back seat has this loud braying laugh like a donkey. It's even more annoying than Darren's laugh, which I wouldn't have thought was possible.

I can feel my face turning red, and I don't dare even glance towards Aerinah. "So, you try her on yet, you big freak?" Darren's gaze shifts to Aerinah and I move to my right a bit, in front of her. "I think she's too small for you, freakshow. But then, you like little girls, don't you?"

His friends are laughing so hard now he has to shout. "Yeah, didn't you know?" he yells at Aerinah, grinning viciously. "He kidnapped a little girl a couple of years ago. It was in the paper. So what'd you do to her, you sick fuck?" Now he's yelling at me again. "Did you r—"

A wax cup hits him right between the eyes, and his voice stops as suddenly as if it got switched off. Ice cubes fly in all directions and I almost laugh at the sight of Darren blinking stupidly with his mouth hanging open, like a big frog or something, as diet Coke drips down his face.

I look over at Aerinah. She looks shocked, and she has her hand to her mouth. Maybe she didn't mean to throw it at him. But then her lips narrow into this determined line, and her eyes are glittering and sharp. "You don't know what you're talking about," she says coldly. "Leave us alone."

"You little bitch!" Darren's really pissed off now, and he goes to open his door. I step right in front of Aerinah. I don't like to fight, but if he even reaches for her I'm going to take him down. He's got muscles, but he's a foot shorter than I am and at least a hundred pounds lighter. One punch will probably do it.

But just then a loud horn blast cuts the air, and we all jump and look around. The bus has arrived, and the driver's honking at Jason to move his car out of the bus stop.

Darren sits back down and closes his door. "See you later, asshole!" he shouts as Jason pulls out, tires slipping on the hard-packed snow. Donkey Boy in the back seat gives us the finger. Then they're gone, and the bus is pulling up right in front of us.

----

Well, that sure killed the conversation. Neither of us says anything the whole way back to school. I don't know about Aerinah, but I have no idea what to say.

Darren's right about the newspaper articles. When Worm and I ran away together, her stepdad, the Undertaker, told the cops I'd kidnapped her, and he put a ten thousand dollar reward on my head. I saw some of the stories after – I looked them up at the library one time. They never came right out and accused me of being a rapist or anything – Dip told me they couldn't do that, it'd be slander or whatever – but they sure

implied that I was up to no good. And went on and on about what Worm must be going through, and how scarred she was going to be if and when they ever got her away from me.

Man, I was barely fourteen. And Worm was eleven. We were just kids, both of us. I don't understand how anybody could think such things.

There were different stories in the papers after, of course. About how they got it wrong and it was really the Undertaker who was hurting Worm and her mom, and how her mom told me to take Worm away, but then she lied to the police because she was so scared of what the creep would do to her. One paper even called me a hero, because I rescued the Undertaker from that cave-in and landed up in the hospital myself.

But I guess Darren never read that part. I wonder how many other people at school think I'm a kidnapper and a child molester.

I look at the doors opposite me and Aerinah, at our reflection in the glass. Is that what people think, when they see us together? She's my age, yeah, but she's so small. Her feet don't even reach the floor of the bus; she's swinging them back and forth.

I suppose it'd look better if I found a girl my own size. Problem is, there _aren't_ any girls my size. I mean, I wear size nineteen shoes, I'm over seven feet tall, and I weigh like three hundred and fifty pounds.

I remember our snowball fight earlier, and how I accidentally gave Aerinah a bloody nose. And how light she felt in my arms when I carried her over to the wall. And then I can feel my face burning as I remember Darren sneering _You__ tried her on yet?_ Not that this would ever happen, because I'm sure she doesn't like me like that, but even if Aerinah _did_ like me, if I ever tried to even hug her I'd probably crush her, never mind if we were, you know, making out or whatever.

Probably I was right the first time, when I thought she was the one who put my poem on the bulletin board, and I decided it would be better for both of us if I just stayed away from her.

Except I don't think I can. I've never felt like this before, about anybody. Everything feels so _right_ when I'm with her. It feels like that song, that song she was dancing to in the record store that one day, that was too beautiful for words. I like talking to her, I like laughing with her, I like looking at her, I just like being with her. I don't want to find a different girl. I don't know how she feels about me, but she at least seems to want to be friends. That can't be wrong, can it?

We get off the bus at the university terminal and walk south, towards Maclean Hall, and still Aerinah doesn't say anything. Okay, maybe she doesn't want to be friends. Not after hearing what Darren had to say. But I don't say anything either. I mean, what is there to say? 'So, I know I just about broke your nose earlier, and you probably think I'm a dangerous sex offender, but would you be my girlfriend?' Yeah, I don't think so.

We get to the steps leading down into the courtyard behind the dorm, and I start going down, but Aerinah stops and says slowly, "Max, look…"

Her voice is tight, sympathetic, and I make sure my face is expressionless before I turn around. This is it, then. She's going to remember some pressing appointment for tomorrow, so sorry, we can't study together after all; and there'll be an excuse for the next day too, and pretty soon I'll just be a face in the hall. Not even that – a chest, rather.

"Fuck him," she says abruptly. I'm so busy expecting the worst I think for a minute she must have said _Fuck you_, but then I realize what I actually heard.

"Huh?" I say before I can stop myself. God, this just gets better and better.

"Fuck Darren, and fuck his friends," she says, and she's angry, but not at me. I think she's angry for me. "Who cares what they say? If they even tried to get to know you they'd know you're a good person, and that you'd never hurt anybody, and, and… whatever."

She turns abruptly and jumps up onto the wall, and runs her hands through her hair, making it flicker in the moonlight. She's sitting almost exactly where she was before, after our snowball fight, just closer to the stairs. Only now it's dark out, and there are fat fluffy snowflakes silently tumbling out of the sky. And, of course, this time she isn't covered in blood.

"I don't know how you feel about me," she says, not looking at me, and so softly I can barely hear her. I take a couple steps closer, wishing my heart would stop pounding so I could listen. "I know we look really stupid together, like a circus act or something, and I'm sure you don't want to get picked on any more than you are already. I don't either. But…"

She finally looks at me, and I can see she's even more nervous than I am, if that's possible. Her lips are trembling and she's very pale, but she holds my gaze as she speaks. "But, I just wanted you to know, I… I really like you, Max."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath, but I let it out now, feeling suddenly dizzy. And happy. Man, I don't think I've ever been this happy.

"I really like you too, Aerinah," I say. I hope my voice doesn't sound as shaky as it feels.

She smiles at me again, that slow sweet smile that lights up her whole face, and without thinking I lean in and press my lips to hers.

I don't really know what to do, but her lips are even softer than they look, and I can smell that sweet apple scent of her hair all around me. Through my coat, I feel her hands landing gently, tentatively, on my chest, and she's kissing me back. And I wonder if maybe I might just burst, because this is really intense.

I reach out with shaking fingers, as gently as I can, and touch her hair, then her cheek. She tugs lightly on my coat and I take a step closer, so her knees are touching my stomach, which is trembling like crazy. Aerinah's trembling too, or maybe shivering; it's getting really cold out here. But I don't care how cold it is.

I want to stay like this forever.


End file.
